


Snow angels

by Anonymous



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Cute, Fluff and Smut, Help, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:22:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27638155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Kiss
Relationships: GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 82
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

It was cold. So cold. It was all George could think about as he waited on the curb of the busy street. Cars whizzed pass much more adamantly than they had back home, and although Nick had said Texas was warm, he was severely doubting that statement. The frigid air combined with the dropping particles of snow turned the water of puddles around him into solid ice and caused icicles to drip from windowsills of the apartments above him.

"I promise it's not normally like this." Nick's voice pleaded as he waited for the green hand on the streetlight to flash red. George just huffed, ignoring his adamant tone of voice and wish that George would forgive him for telling him to pack short sleeves. A few people waltzed past them on the street and, although it was busier than ever, the world seemed almost quiet.

Nick had that effect; he could slow life down around him like a stopwatch. Even when George was focused on streaming or relaxing, a simple look in his general direction made his heart run laps around his body. The protection and heat from the wind stirring past him was standing right in front of him giggling about cat videos. It was endearing - he was endearing. But George shook his head to free the thoughts from their tight grasp of his brain.

He shouldn't think about these things, he should just think about making it across the street. The light was green now, Nick grabbed his arm as they walked across. The childish boy managed to avoid every white line in a stupid little game which main rule was avoiding looking both ways. George scoffed, tightening his grip on the boy as if he were a child on a leash. Nick needed guidance, he couldn't do most things by himself without getting distracted.

Everybody has small requirements that need to be met it's just that Nick's often involved near-death experiences. George was used to that, though, even though he had only seen the boy in person 3 days before. Nick's smile was like hot cocoa though, it warmed him from the inside out like some sort of opposite microwave or another crappy simile. There really weren't ways to describe the way he felt around him. 

It was some sort of boyish crush. The push and pull of heartstrings that matched the rhythm of his laugh. The pitterpatter of that same heart shaking in its chambers. If it werent for ribs, it would have escaped by now and jumped into the hands of the man he loved. Love is a strong word, but this was a strong feeling. The kind of love that forces you to melt in the middle of the winter, or absolutely wreck yourself until you're nothing but a puddle of kind words and admiration.

Love was a sick feeling, and George was in it deep. When hands entangled in a friendly way, he couldn't help but see love hearts floating around him. Butterflies in his stomach fluttered so erratically he wanted to excrete them all in any way he could, any time and any where. Sexual desires coarsed through veins whenever Nick as near as breathed. Seeing him by a lightpole made him realise how much his slender body would suit being pressed against it, hands around his throat as Nick stared at him with those deep eyes.

No adjectives. No words. Literally nothing to describe those eyes. The closest things came from his heart, a pile of vomited words sitting at his feet. If he'd pick them up and place them in his notes app, he would have a full novel written in moments. Space? Was space could enough? He could see stars reflected in the iris, he could feel constellations building inside him when he traced the veins of his sclera with his own eyes. His eyes couldn't compare. It was cliche, that was okay.

Nick let go of his hand as they met themselves with his front door. The key turned in the lock as they stepped inside, the heating wasn't unwelcome in the slighest bit. George collapsed onto the cushions of the sofa, wrapping himself in a red blanket. "Do you have cocoa?" He asked, exaggerating the "a" in the word like his life dependend on it. "Yeah but I ain't got no milk. Will water be okay?" George rolled his eyes at that. Of course water wasn't okay.

"Sure."

Well, that wasn't the line. He studied the script of his heart yet again. "Be brash," it read, "and mean, so he won't notice your reddening cheeks. Your shaking wrists. Your quivering lips. Your weakness. He weakens you." Nick poured a cup of water and started microwaving it. George almost sat up, he wanted to kiss the stupidity out of him. He wanted to kiss him so hard he gained all of the knowledge in the freaking universe. Every word, verse, hymn, secret. Every secret he stowed away.

His heart was a lockbox but he couldn't give away the key. Hell, he had only found it himself a few months ago. He barely trusted his own trembling hands to insert the key and twist, ever so gentle. How would Nick twist his own key inside of him? Would he be gentle? Rough? Would he be deliberate in the steady turn of his wrist? Would he handle him heavily just as he did most things, or would he take care to open him like an important parcel?

"Are you microwaving it?"

"Was I not 'sposed to?"

"You don't have a kettle?"

"Do I look like im from the 19th century? What... what's that?"

George's face was utterly painted with pure confusion. How could somebody not know what a kettle is? "Are you stupid?" He giggled as he settled back into the armrest of the chair. "Oh okay Mr. Unappreciative, I guess I'll drink it all myself."

"You're free to do so. Im not drinking that crap!"

"Well make it yourself. Shit you're so.... what's another word for u... ungreatful!"

George sniffed involuntarily. He was used to getting yelled at for his annoying antics but he was never really prepared. Nick turned around at the small sound. "Y-you cryin'?" George shook his head no and wiped his arm on his colourful jumper. Nick walked over and sat on the armrest of the sofa, rubbing George's calf appreciatively.. gently. He can be gentle?

"What if we play in the snow? To take your mind off it."

"Its like 1 pm..."

"And?"


	2. Chapter 2

The sun was hidden behind thick layers of clouds. George could only relate. He found himself hiding in a similar way behind violence, behind lies. Untold truths and words he wanted to say oh so desperately, but never did. He lived life sans every desire, chasing a relief. Any semblance of the such. Life was a violent series of never ending twists and turns, stomach churnings, erections, hiding. Fighting. Fighting back every piece of admiration he yearned to show. Fighting back tears as he struggled to cling to the emotions within him.

Love him or lose him.

George ran his fingers over the white snow on the ground, smirking. He grasped his hands, collecting a small snowball in between them. "Oh sap-" and then he was cut off by a snowball hitting him straight in his cheek and the telltale pat of boots running away from him in the sun. He wiped the wetness from his face and ran after the noise, his heart pounding.

He throw the snowball in the general direction of the footprints before stumbling and falling in front of Nick's form. "I was gonna do that." The British boy huffed, a grin twisting his face. "You didn't though." For some reason, his tone of voice was arousing. That was normal for George, though, because everything Nick said was arousing. Every voice he said it in. He could probably get off on Nick saying "peanut butter" if he was being completely honest.

George flopped backwards into the snow, sighing. The cold snowflakes landed on his face, painting it a light shade of white. He couldn't help but imagine other things from that alone. Everything was sexy when Nick was around. He felt Nick join him, only inches away. "Snow angels? Wanna make snow angels?" George asked, worming his hand towards Nick's... he took it. He interlaced his fingers like his life depended on it, it made George's heart pause its beating. It made him choke.

"Snow angels. Yeah." Nick mocked his choppy speech, disconnecting their hands and flapping his arms erratically with a deadpan face. George laughed like a spray bottle, kicking his legs to expel every ounce of love inside of him. Every drop fell beside him as he did the same. The sun almost peaked out from its cloud blanket to take a glance of the friends showing their vulnerability, having fun. It didn't, though. It didn't want to melt that silky smooth snow, nor melt their hearts.

George turned to face Nick, a smile still lingering on his lips. Nick followed suit, connecting their eyes in a heartfelt gaze. It felt like they were dating and had been for years. It felt more intimate then sex could ever feel. Sex. "Are you a virgin?" He sure regretted asking that as soon as the syllables passed his lips. It deviated from the script. The words weren't written in, nor would he ever have considered writing them in. Not in a blue moon. This belonged in an erotica, not his life. Not his perfectly planned love story.

Nick's red cheeks were no longer red from the cold, but from embarrassment. George never knew it possible to sweat in 20 degree weather. "Well no... but I've never done anything "special." It was more like a you touch me ill touch you situation. She was awkward, I was awkward. It was awkward. Felt decent. Wish i could try again. You?"

George contemplated. "I ain't. Ive never like... been fucked? But ive definitely done the fucking. This is the weirdest conversation." He squeezed the hand that lay in his own, he had almost forgotten that it was there. "Cold.. 'm cold. We should head in, Ill turn on the heat" Nick changed the subject, standing to his feet. George followed suit, staring down at the print in the snow.

Two snow angels, holding each others hands. An emotional moment captured in the snow like a picture that would soon fade away, covered up by piles of white. It wrote itself like a story, a story of yearning. A story of pining. George's mouth moved on its own, "I like you, Nick." But Nick didnt respond, he just nodded.

After a few moments, moments that felt more like hours than anything else, millennia, Nick spoke. "I know. Me too." The words felt even warmer than the hot chocolate he desired, tearing needles into his heart faster than he could even register the words being said to him. "I always have. I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. I guess ive been... worried? I dont know... we have just always been affectionate. What if we had to stop?"

"We dont have to stop, Nick! We can continue, we can be even more loving than before. Now that we both know its just... it'll be different but, not in a, bad way? We can kiss, now. We can hold hands... we did that before but still."

"George i don't know how you're so calm all the time. You're just so... intense? And so mature? I can't describe it, you just rip my heart out and squeeze it. Its like all the toxins are all being realised. Its like life is just, repeating. Like a broken record. Its skipping. Poetic."

The British boy did the only thing that felt right, tilting Nick's chin up and giving him a gentle kiss on the lips. Nick wrapped his arms around George's neck as he deepened the kiss. George tasted like cherry chapstick and warmth. The warmth he craved. The warmth he needed. He never realised how cold he actually was. George's lips were softer than he had ever expected. Gentle. Pink. Plump.

"That was my first kiss," began George as he pulled away, "With a guy, I mean. It was nice. A bit sharp around the beard area but nice. Made me feel delicate." And Nick whispered, "You are delicate. You deserve to feel appreciated, wanted. Because you are appreciated, and I want you."

"You want me?"

"Yep."

"In-"

"In more ways than one."

George swallowed, his heart skipping a beat. He smiled shakily as a sign of retaliation. He wanted Nick, too. He wanted to feel his warm hands against his body as he treated him just like he had when he kissed him: a fine china doll. Like he was something that could be broken, something he needed to handle with care. Something. Somebody. For once in his life he wanted to be scooped up and kissed until the only thoughts in his head were breathing and pumping blood.

He didn't want to think any more.


End file.
